


smoke & ashes

by namelikeafairytale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namelikeafairytale/pseuds/namelikeafairytale
Summary: Dean tries his damndest to stop feeling, to numb out his days drinking too much, driving too fast, and working too hard. Sam worries. When the Winchesters encounter Cas working the same case in Marfa, TX, Dean must confront his coping mechanisms and learn to forgive.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	smoke & ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I'm playing with. Don't get too invested. You'll just get hurt.

Dean wakes to the sound of typing. It’s Sam, as usual, searching state and federal databases for new cases— a county-wide stretch of mutilated animals, murderous biblical references, “strange markings,” unrecognizable bite marks— anything marked by the occult gets looked into. Sam’s probably been at it since dawn. Early to bed, early to rise. Meanwhile, Dean lingers on the couch he spent the last couple of hours tossing and turning in, considering the appeal of trying to get in a few more hours of half-assed sleep in his own bed when Sam’s typing stops.

“You found a case?” Dean manages to croak out, the dry morning air harsh on his throat.

“You’re up.” Sam greets with a half-formed smile. “Yeah, listen to this.”

Dean takes a moment to sit up, feeling every fiber in his body recoil at the movement. After 41 years of abuse, torture, his prolonged stays in Hell and Purgatory, plus general malfeasance, his body has compounded the effects of age, and he feels it. The decades old couch doesn’t help. Ignoring the pain, Dean moves to Sam at the long table in the center of the bunker.

“A 36 year-old male was found flayed in southwest Texas,” Sam says. “According to the report, Santi Iglesias was a community advocate, law-school dropout, street artist, and fostered 2 children with his partner. No priors, no enemies, unless you count the current administration from the looks of his facebook page.” Sam turned his laptop to show Dean the profile picture.

“Wow, Sammy, a real upstanding doppelgänger you’ve got there. Any gang associations?” Dean asked, a smirk plastered on his face in response to Sam’s eye-rolling. Never too early for a good jab. Dean sits opposite his brother and rolls his neck in a circular motion, trying to work out the kinks. At this, Sam looks up from his screen with that worried look on his face that makes Dean want to roll his eyes in turn.

“Sam, I’m fine.” Dean says, before the younger man can even get a word in.

“Are you, Dean? You haven’t been sleeping, and when it does finally catch up with you, you just fall wherever you’re at. Is this about Ca-“ Sam manages out before Dean, once again, cuts him off.

“Don’t. I’m. Fine.” Dean says and that’s the end of that. _He should know better by now. Cass is dead to me._

Sam lets it go with a sigh.

“So, Texas.” Dean says, not asking, “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

——

A normal person would have paled at the thought of a 14-hour drive, but not Dean. For him, it was a challenge.

“I’m hurt you didn’t believe in me, Sammy.” Dean joked, “Ten hours, forty-three minutes. Feels good.”

“I’m hurt you didn’t get pulled over once. ‘Don’t mess with Texas’ and all that.”

“I could eat. You?” Dean asked, one hand on the steering wheel, the other rubbing his belly. The seemingly endless stretch of road finally narrowed from a four-lane highway to a 2-lane gravelly road, and Dean set his sights on the nearing settlement, “I thought Marfa was s’posed to be some bougie art-town. One specter shy of a ghost town, if you ask me”

Distractedly, Sam lets out a: “Yeah, yeah, food good.”

“Food good? Wow, Stanford, maybe you shoulda graduated.”

Sam says nothing, and Dean realizes a second too late that he shoulda kept his damn mouth shut. _Sammy’ll get over it once he gets some food in him._ The rest of the short ride through the town doesn't do much to keep Dean's interest. _Get in, solve the case, get out. The faster the better. Something about this place makes me feel-_

——

Dean negates every single request of Sam’s to eat somewhere with fresh, healthy options. Instead, he seeks out the dive bar on the corner from their barn-like motel. There’s a pizza place just down the street, which he points out to Sam as “you can probably find your rabbit food there.”

Sam’s been unusually quiet since the jab about Stanford when they first pulled into Maria, and it’s starting to get on Dean’s nerves. He could have been nicer, but Samantha didn’t need to be dramatic either.

He follows Sam down the street past the bar to the Pizza Foundation. It’s a Tuesday evening, and the place is packed. Luckily, Sam’s order of a greek salad, hold the dressing, is prepped and ready to go. _Guess the pizza is hot shit._ A pair of blondes— Texas blondes— stare at them the entire time. One even leans forward, and winks at Dean. He raises one eyebrow in return, but turns on his heels. _Not the same_. _Wait-what? Not the same as—_

Some time later, after Sam ate his salad, they stroll over to the Lost Horse Saloon. Dean feels right at home in the rustic setting. He orders a double cheeseburger, extra bacon, onion rings and curly fries with a double whiskey. He downs a second and orders a third in the span of thirty seconds. He reaches baseline, and the numbing heat radiates throughout his limbs. _Finally, no more feeling._  
  
“Dean, maybe, take it easy tonight. You need to sleep and tomorrow, morning, we’re meeting with police—“

Of course, Dean cuts him off with a: “What do you think I’m doing, Sammy?”

The way Dean spits out his brother’s name invokes a number of feelings. Without wanting to get into them, Dean visibly relaxes, lets out the breath he’s been holding, and puts a hand to Sam’s shoulder.

“You’re right. Let’s call it a night.”

Sam’s face finally lightens up, a small smile forming. Then, it drops. Sam is staring past Dean’s shoulder, looking like he’s just seen a ghost.

Dean turns around to see _him._


End file.
